All is Fair
by GrayWolf555
Summary: Love is a complex thing. An exploration of a taboo romance, broken dreams, and bitter compromises, all in the hopes of finding some light at the end of the tunnel. KakaSaku. Rated M, as the themes in future chapters will be adult. Multichapter.


Kakashi stood at the table, shoulders slumped more than usual, and sorted out his supplies. A vial of soldier pills. A half-used deck of exploding tags. A roll of chakra wire. A well-worn orange paperback. Six shurikens. And five kunai.

Five war-dulled kunai.

That, he thought, cannot stand.

Kakashi was particular about his kunai. He was always the first shinobi in line when the armory received a new shipment. He weighed them, testing the cutting edge, threw them to check for balance. Despite the looks he would get from other ninja when arguing with the weapons-maker over the tiniest of defects or inconsistencies, Kakashi found this reasonable. When you've spent as many years with a kunai in hand as he had, you develop preferences. Expectations. And these were important. There was enough to think of in battle; one should not have to second-guess his tools. One faulty handle could cost him his life. One dulled blade could cost him a comrade. It was a risk he was not willing to take.

Kakashi scooped his pile of kunai from the table, walked over to a free cot in the tent, fell down into it the way only the war-weary could, and began to sharpen the first knife.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

Sakura sat across the tent from Kakashi. She was sitting up on another cot, one that still had the blood of its last resident splattered on the sheets. After the White Zetsu infiltration, they had run out of fresh linens. New supplies were allegedly on their way, but were having trouble making it to their location. Sakura did not hold high hopes for their arrival, and thus resigned herself to her bloody seat.

Her head hung down, chin barely resting on the top of her green flak vest. Her pink hair was pulled back tight, but strands on each side of her forehead had came loose, leaving unintentional bangs framing her face. Sakura never bothered to tuck back the hair that had fell. Doing so seemed so trivial, so out-of-place during wartime. Her hair was beginning to get greasy, unwashed for several days. She had been wearing the same clothes for the same length of time, blood from her first Allied Forces patients intermingling with the more recent injured ninja on the sleeves of her Konoha-issue shirt. Her boots didn't quite fit, and her back ached from leaning over mangled shinobi for days on end. Fussing with her hair seemed borderline offensive to those around her, those whose priorities were rightfully on the job at hand, on simply doing what it takes to live another day. This was war. There was no time for preening.

Still, sitting across from her ex-sensei, Sakura wished there was.

It was one of the things she hadn't fully understood about war. She knew there would be violence. She knew there would be death. Although the sheer scale of casualties had deeply shocked her, Sakura couldn't say she was caught entirely off-guard. The intensity was surprising, but her expectations generally held true as far as bloodshed was concerned. What she was not ready for was how life, hers and everyone else's, completely stopped, and in its place was only war. Once the Allied Forces mobilized, everything changed. Naruto was sequestered, all her friends assigned to different units, Kakashi leading his own squad. Other than Shizune, who Sakura thanked the gods every day for, she only saw familiar faces when he or she was gushing blood or passing by camp, but the former was far more common. The people Sakura had built her life with were gone, and there were no guarantees they would ever come back.

There were also the smaller things, the little facets of her day-to-day live Sakura never realized she had taken for granted. There was no such thing as privacy during wartime. She was never alone, it was never quiet, and she had to be "on", firmly in medic mode, at all times. It was more exhausting than she could have imagined. There were times where she just wanted a nap, or a shower, or to chat with Kakashi or Naruto or Tsunade, very basic, non-luxurious things. But she could not have them. Nor would she, until this conflict was over.

It made her appreciate the moment she was in. Sitting quietly in the medic tent, watching Kakashi sharpen his kunai. It was mundane and simple, with time moving slowly. In the battle-ravaged world they were in, beauty became increasingly relative. In Sakura's tired eyes, this was as close to perfection as they could get.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

Kakashi didn't mind the moment either. He was grateful for the repetitive task of kunai-sharpening, as it didn't require him to think much, but also demanded enough focus that his mind could not wander or dwell on the events of the past three days. All he had were the knives in his hands, one carefully striking the other, perfecting the cutting edge. With each stroke, the potential for his comrades dying tomorrow decreased, or so he told himself. The better he was, the more shinobi who would live. Kakashi rarely accepted credit for successful missions or battle victories, but he always carried the burden of failed attempts and dead friends. His obsessive fixation on perfectly sharp kunai was a reflection of the sentiment. He wasn't doing it so he could win; he was doing it so he wouldn't lose. To the untrained eye, the motivations looked similar, but they could not be farther apart. Kakashi was not interested in chasing glory or admiration. He only sought to protect the little he had left.

And the one he felt the fiercest desire to keep safe was sitting across from him. Kakashi was thankful that she had chosen the path of medic-nin. Not that she wasn't capable of being a regular shinobi, he reminded himself, careful to not let his protectiveness blind him to her talents. It would be much more difficult to watch out for her, however, if she was constantly in the field. Without him. Sakura was a smart girl, and he wondered if she realized that she hadn't been sent on any missions above C-rank with any captain other than her ex-sensei. Regardless, war was the game now, and the rules were different. He had lost his privileges when it came to influencing Sakura's assignments. But she was a medic, and medics stayed off the front lines. Thanks to her particular skills, and much to Kakashi's relief, the Allied Forces saw Sakura the way he did: too important to lose. That didn't erase all fears of losing her, though. Which is why Kakashi was enjoying the quiet moment with his former student so much. Shizune was buzzing around the tent somewhere, likely readying the makeshift hospital for the next batch of wounded, but aside from that, the pair was alone. A rare gift during wartime.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

"Kakashi, what if I die?"

Kakashi sighed. He should have known better than to think his kunoichi would be satisfied with silence. And it was a legitimate question, one that weighed heavily on the mind of any young person unfamiliar with the realities of war. The cynic in him wanted to say, _then you die_, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The thought alone rattled him, the idea of losing Sakura, to the point where he couldn't voice the words even if he wanted to. Still, he felt duty-bound to respond. It was something Sakura wouldn't feel comfortable asking just anyone. In the shinobi world, such a selfish thought would be considered cowardly or dishonorable, surely not the kind of problem that should afflict a warrior. But shinobi, try as they may to be unfeeling tools, would forever remain undeniably human.

"Between the fact that you are a medic and that diamond on your forehead, I would say you're in a better position than most to avoid such a fate."

Kakashi paused.

"But nothing is certain in war, Sakura."

Ting. Ting. Ting.

Sakura shifted on the cot, shuffling her feet on the hard dirt floor of the tent. His answer was more direct than she expected. She agreed with him as well. The odds of living favored her over the vast majority of the Allied Forces, for the exact reasons he referenced. Her job. The seal. She would definitely be a difficult kill, she thought, but knowing the opposition, it was possible. And possible was all she needed to stoke her fears. Brave as she tried to be, Sakura was not ready to become a line on the cenotaph at seventeen years old. Although if she did, at least Kakashi would come visit her.

"But there's so much I haven't done," Sakura muttered, not looking to dwell on the subject, but unable to let it go entirely.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow at the girl. Not that he didn't understand what she meant, but he was curious as to what kind of life she saw for herself when she got older. He couldn't tell if her goals were as a shinobi, as a medic, or of the more domestic sort. It always seemed to him that she wanted some mix of the three, but her preferences within the group were never clear.

"Like?" Kakashi prodded, lone eye still fixed on the blades in front of him.

Green eyes shot up from the floor, and focused on the slumped Copy Ninja. It was the first time she had looked at him since he sat down, and that was very much a deliberate choice of hers. They were alone in the tent, just the two of them, and Sakura feared that the combination of their proximity and exclusivity would lead her to slip up, to tip him off to the thoughts and feelings that had been building up in her. She was never a great actress, and Kakashi rarely missed anything. It was a miracle she had hid it from him as long as she had. If he had pressed her on it, or reciprocated even the tiniest bit, she knew she would crumble, blurting out everything she had kept bottled up, thoroughly embarrassing herself in the process. Sakura did not want to do that, so managing their interactions to decrease the temptation to spill her guts was paramount.

Staring at him now, Sakura remember why her gaze had been avoiding the man. Kakashi looked tired, worn down, his relaxed body language replaced with the truly burdensome weight of being Third Division Commander, the heavy pull of losing comrade after comrade. His shoulders slumped an inch lower than usual, his hands moved a half-second less quickly, his feet were planted on the dirt floor flat and square, as if he was worried the whole tent might turn upside down.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

Sakura fiddled and pulled on her dirty fingers. These were the moments that scared her the most. The rare glimpses of humanity from the great Kakashi of the Sharingan. In the face of all his achievements, he was still only a man. His responsibilities weighed on him. His body, while truly deadly, was not a machine, and could betray him. Eventually, he would tire, he would slow, and he would be relegated to the realm of mortals. Sakura also knew he could be hurt, deep down inside, in the places few knew knew existed in him, and fewer yet could reach. He would curse himself for the senseless death around him, and hold himself accountable for the loss of life, whether he could have prevented it or not. He would wonder why it wasn't him to meet his end, the same question that had plagued him since he first became a jounin. Hatake Kakashi was only a man, and a quite broken one at that. One that Sakura desperately want to help, to fix, to save.

Which is why she was so nervous, sitting across him in the medic tent. His guard was down. He was, even without words, revealing himself to her, if only by showing he would share the fleeting peace they had temporarily secured. Small as it was, it was a privilege not many received. Kakashi had been doing this for awhile now, letting her in. The time she came home from a mission and fell asleep on his couch. The time he let her accompany him to the cenotaph. The two of them lazily passing the time on nice days reading books in the tree, his book orange, hers not, but the pair next to each other anyway. They were not strange things, nor were they in any way particularly suggestive, but they were things Kakashi always did alone. Little gestures that told Sakura she mattered, that she was special, even if Sakura knew it wasn't in the way she wanted to be. It was still something, and all the more meaningful coming from her reclusive ex-sensei.

Those little moments, paired with the quiet exhaustion and vulnerability he was showing now, made Sakura want to grab him by his flak vest, kiss him, and just hold him as close as she could. On the battlefield, he never needed her help. As a shinobi, there was very little she could do for him aside from healing. And healing Kakashi after missions was her duty, and hers alone. Everyone in the hospital knew it. When the Copy Ninja returned to Konoha, Sakura was alerted. No other nurse or medic was allowed to tend to him, with the exceptions of Tsunade and Shizune, if his wounds were particularly dire. It helped that Kakashi avoided the hospital. It made it easier to ensure that no one touched the man but her. Healing the wounded was not typically considered an intimate thing, but it was as close as he would allow her to be to him, the only time she could touch him, feel him, without it being awkward or wrong. She did not like missing that chance. Sakura wondered if he had realized that she had been the only medic to heal him for over a year now.

Apart from her healing jutsus, the only other way Sakura felt she could help him was rather personal. Very personal, actually. She doubted he would ever allow her to do it, to love him. Because no matter how much she cared for him, it didn't do an ounce of good if it was unrequited. Sasuke had taught her that many times over. But Kakashi deserved to be loved, to have someone, to be truly happy for more than a fleeting moment. And Sakura desperately wanted to be that person, the one who brought him that happiness. And it was that line of thinking that greased the already-slippery slope of Sakura's feelings for him, kickstarting a downward spiral of love, attachment, obsession, even though she knew it was impossible.

When she first began noticing her perception of Kakashi changing, Sakura tried diligently to stamp it out. She did not need another one-sided love affair, a flame of desire left to burn itself out alone. And she was unequivocally certain that would be the outcome. She couldn't make Sasuke want her, she couldn't make him stay, even though nothing was stopping the pair from being together. What made her think she could persuade a man, a much older man, to violate their sensei-student bond and willingly accept the scorn of the village just to be with her? It was insane. And that level of deterrence presupposed Sakura could get Kakashi to see her as a woman, a mature being worthy of romantic interest in the first place. She knew she wasn't even close to clearing that initial hurdle with him, rendering all concerns about future relationship complications purely academic. And yet, here she sat, in the middle of a war, grimy and unwashed, stained with blood, fighting away butterflies rising in her stomach. Despite her significant progress as a kunoichi, she couldn't help but find herself to be a tad bit pathetic.

"I'm still waiting, Sakura..." Kakashi interrupted, chiding her for daydreaming in the middle of their conversation.

Sakura snapped back to reality.

"Oh, you know, a lot of things..." she replied, answering quickly to stave off awkwardness, even though it granted her no time to formulate a proper list.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

Sakura was beginning to like the sound of Kakashi sharpening his kunai. It was methodical, steady. Once you got over the metallic nature of the sound, she thought, it was almost soothing. Her thoughts wandered off of the man across from her, and back to the war. Before Kakashi could follow up on her response, she took their conversation in a different direction.

"Would it really be so bad, the Infinite Tsukuyomi?"

Kakashi stopped, and looked up at Sakura.

Her chin rested on the palms of her hands, slim fingers running up her cheeks, a few locks of pink hair falling across her face. There were bags under her eyes, reminding him that medics got no more sleep than soldiers, and often times, quite a bit less. Her lips were twisted in a light frown, as if she didn't want to be asking the question she did. She looked different, Kakashi thought. The flak vest was a change, making her look older, and less feminine. Her face was blank, empty, lacking its usual brightness. Happy, sad, or enraged, Sakura's face always showed something; it was unnerving to see it so unmoved.

He still thought she looked beautiful. Kakashi had thought that, every single day, for longer than he would be willing to admit in polite company. But her beauty tonight was different, more tragic. The war was stealing what was left of her youth right before his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Kakashi intoned, before going back to sharpening. Three down, two to go.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

"Just that people are saying it's a dream world, but you get to choose what the dream looks like. It can be whatever you want. It lets you have the life you want the most."

Kakashi nodded.

"Something like that."

Sakura looked back at him, green eyes widening in curiosity.

"So I could still live in Konoha, right?"

Kakashi nodded.

"And everyone I know would still be there?"

"Yes, from what I understand, that's possible."

Sakura took an extra second to respond this time.

"But I could change things, right? Little things. The small things I wish were different about my life," she offered.

"I suppose so," he answered.

"Like my hair color. I might want to change my hair color," Sakura said with a half-smile, twirling a bubblegum lock of it with her finger.

"I happen to like your hair color, Sakura. Makes me feel better about my own," Kakashi deadpanned.

Sakura smiled, her face returning to the open book of emotions it normally was. She was happy to be chatting with him. It was a reprieve from the death around them, a conversation that almost made them feel normal again.

"Well, we can change your hair too, Kakashi. I think you'd look good with dark hair. I'll give you some black hair to go with your Sharingan," she teased.

Kakashi looked up thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Too bad," she shot back, crossing her arms in mock defiance, "My dream."

He smirked under his mask, and gently nodded.

"That it is."

He followed up.

"You can create your own world, and the first thing you think of is our hair color?" he asked, feigning disappointment.

"Oh, I'd change plenty of other things," Sakura said with an eye-roll. "Naruto would be less annoying, Tsunade less demanding, Sai would have manners, Ino would be able to keep her mouth shut, Konoha winters would be shorter but it would still snow on Christmas, missions would pay twice as much, I would have bigger boobs, the list goes on..." she huffed, obviously overwhelmed by how much fixing her perfect world needed.

"Those changes to Naruto and Sai would be great improvements. I agree wholeheartedly," he said. He was careful to omit his thought that her breasts were just fine. Perfect, in fact. Proportional to the rest of her, keeping with her lithe look he found himself dreaming about during dark nights when no one was watching. A proper kunoichi had no use for oversized breasts. They were nothing but a obstacle, hindering movement. Impractical. Big chests were for civilians, he thought. Despite her soft skin and delicate features, Sakura was a ninja through and through. And he adored that about her. Kakashi couldn't picture himself attracted to a civilian woman, those that seek to emulate the unbalanced figures of dolls to conform to the preferences of unenlightened men, those who became caricatures designed to be visually pleasing, but capable of nothing more. While he was certain in his lack of interest in that breed of female, he was less certain if the object of his fixation was necessarily a better choice. As unfulfilling as a relationship with a busty civilian may be, it would be free of the complications and guilt that accompanied his feelings for his pink-haired former student.

Kakashi paused, stopping to focus on the conversation, and repeated the words Sakura had just uttered in his head, only to realize some expected portions of her answer were missing.

"And the rest of your team?"

Sakura tensed up. There were two names intentionally omitted from her rant, and count on Kakashi to pick them out immediately.

"Well," she started, "Sasuke wouldn't have left. I feel like that's obvious. And Itachi wouldn't have killed his clan." Sakura looked away from the Copy Ninja, and back to her hands, curious if there were showing her nerves by shaking.

"But I don't think I would change much else about him. If I did, it wouldn't be Sasuke. For better or worse, that's just who he is," Sakura stated, voice soft and low, making it sound akin to a confession. She had accepted that he was not one she could change, and knowing what she did of the boy, Sakura feared any tinkering with Sasuke would backfire, even in her dream world. He was meant to be himself, and she should just leave it alone. Admitting that to herself, which she had done awhile ago, was the closest thing to closure she could get.

She quickly perked back up, however.

"And you!" she said with a grin, mischief playing in her eyes. "Where do I even start?"

Kakashi looked up from his hands to the suddenly excited girl across from him.

"Be gentle," he warned. "I am holding a kunai," he said, giving the still-blunt knife a half-hearted and entirely unintimidating wave.

Sakura was undeterred. She took a deep breath before she started.

Damn, Kakashi thought. This was going to be a long list.

"First, in my perfect Infinite Tsukuyomi world, Hatake Kakashi would never be late. Ever. Second, you would not read Icha Icha. Not in public, not at home, not ever. Third, you would use doors as opposed to windows. Fourth, oh..." she paused, tapping a finger on her chin, "Fourth, you would NOT wear a mask. Fifth, you would not be afraid of hospitals. Sixth, you would always come right to me anytime you were hurt before going to the hospital that you are not afraid of."

Sakura stopped to gather her thoughts, as if there was so much wrong with him that it took a second to get it all straight. Kakashi took the interruption in her laundry list of concerns to go back to sharpening.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

"You would stand up straight."

Ting. Ting. Ting.

"Your lies would be better."

Ting. Ting. Ting.

"No, better yet, you wouldn't lie to me at all."

Ting. Ting. Ting.

"And you wouldn't avoid my questions with cryptic answers."

Ting. Ting. Ting.

She was really on a roll now, Kakashi thought. Did she really find him that terrible?

"And maybe..." Sakura's voice softened to a whisper. If Kakashi was looking, he would have seen the blush creeping on to the girl's face.

Ting. Ting. Ting.

"And maybe you wouldn't have been my sensei, and you and I...I mean, maybe we could try...to be something else..." she offered quietly, viridian doe-eyes falling down to her shifting feet as she spoke.

Ting. Ting. Thhhck.

Her words caused Kakashi to lose his concentration, and he drove the point of one of the kunai dead into his thumb.

As the blood began to creep from the wound, Kakashi realized the pain was the last of his concerns. I wouldn't be your sensei? We could be "something else"?

It couldn't mean what he thought it did. He must have heard her wrong.

He could see the red liquid seeping out from the tear in his glove. He lifted his arm and stuck the cut thumb in his mouth.

It took Sakura a few seconds to react, as she was still lost in her inner conflict about what to make known, and what to keep to herself. She had already said more than she realized, connecting the dots for him in a way she never thought she would.

Sakura bit her lit, choking back the explosion of words welling up in her. After finally hinting at what she so desperately wanted from him, she had to fight the urge to continue. She wanted to elaborate, to fill him in that she didn't just have a little crush on teacher, that it was much more than that. It wasn't a passing whim, or the temporary fixation of a hormonal teenager. Sakura did not do romance flippantly, or half-assed. It wasn't something he could dismiss, nor talk her out of. She was petrified that, if she didn't clarify, he wouldn't take her seriously, and that kind of emotional condescension was something her heart couldn't handle. Not from him.

Gradually, she lifted her gaze back to the object of her affection, eager to set the record straight about what she said, and a little curious as to why her words made the sharpening stop, but he didn't respond. And her green eyes found an interesting sight.

Hatake Kakashi sucking his thumb?

"What are you doing?" she blurted out.

"I-I cuth myseff," he lisped, thumb impeding his words.

In the moment, he looked more like Naruto than Kakashi, she thought. Smooth, suave Kakashi cut himself sharpening a kunai. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

"You have a medic six feet away from you," Sakura started, rising up from the cot, "and you stuff your hand in your mouth?" she finished, placing her hands on her hips and tilting her head.

Kakashi just shrugged, throwing up his non-injured hand in defeat.

Sakura walked over to him. He could hear her mutter "baka" under her breath. She sat down next to him, and yanked his arm by the wrist.

"Do you know how many germs are in the human mouth? Give me you hand."

Kakashi relaxed, and let her guide his hand into her lap. Sakura put it in between her palms, as her hands lit up a familiar green.

"If you hurt yourself sharpening a kunai, how am I supposed to trust you with that?" Sakura said with a smirk, motioning with her head to giant sword leaning against the wall next to the door of the medic tent. It was amusing that he had hauled around the Execution's Blade for days, but was felled by a kunai.

"It's the little ones that are tricky," he offered.

Sakura smiled and shook her head.

"What am I going to do with you?"

She still didn't have a good answer, and wondered if she ever would.

Sakura watched as Kakashi closed his eye, and let his head lean back against the wall behind him. In the darkness, it was easier for him to focus on her touch, her chakra mixing with his own. He always wondered if Sakura knew that she did it differently than the other medics, the way she healed. Even with someone as skilled as Shizune, the chakra infusions were stiff and abrupt. The foreign chakra felt like an intruder in his body, forcing his own chakra to act, and causing an awkward sensation of pin-pricks and numbness where they were working. But not with Sakura. Her chakra was soothing and soft, enveloping the parts of his body she worked on. He could feel it gently swirling together with his own. If other medics' chakra use felt like a cold shower, hers felt like warm blanket.

But her healing arts were not where the real pleasure was derived from, this Kakashi knew. Her delicate hands wrapping his own sent shivers down his spine. They were beautiful, her hands. The fingers slim and delicate, but still scarred and calloused. She was no shrinking violet. It was the dichotomy of Haruno Sakura that he adored so much. She was both a fighter and a healer, quick to anger but quicker to forgive, hard as nails yet soft as a feather around those she loved. He knew it was wrong, all of what he felt for his former student, but there was little he could do fend off the thoughts and feelings that had been creeping up on him. He was only a man, and she had turned into a particularly beautiful, strong, intelligent, and caring girl. An underrated aspect of being a good shinobi, Kakashi thought, was being able to identify the fights you will lose. His internal struggle regarding his desire for the pink-haired kunoichi was most certainly a battle he had little hope of prevailing in.

And with the simple holding of his hand, the supreme comfort that she alone gave him, Sakura was slowly lulling the Copy Ninja to sleep.

Sakura slowly let the green glow around her hands dissipate, but left the man's hand between her own. She looked up to see his eye was still shut, and his breathing had slowed. If he wasn't asleep yet, he would be soon. It was a moment she should take advantage of as well, she thought. They were safe in the medic tent, and the chaos had temporarily stopped. If they were needed, Shizune could wake them.

Sakura interlaced her fingers with Kakashi's, and pulled his hand further into her lap as she shifted closer to him. She placed the side of her head on to his shoulder, as her free hand wrapped around his arm that she had dragged across herself. She could feel the warmth of his body, a welcome change from the chilly air of the tent. The sharpening accident cut short her chance to explain herself, to lay out what he meant to her in words. Taking this opportunity to inform him with her actions instead seemed less daunting, and far more gratifying. She would fill him in on the finer points someday.

As her eyes slowly began to close, Sakura could sense the slide of Kakashi's head toward her, as it came to rest gently against her own. Just as slumber overtook her, she felt the hand holding her own give a soft squeeze, and there was a mumble about how everything was going to be okay.

Sakura pulled herself closer, body flush against his, and fell asleep listening to the heartbeat next to her. For the first time since the conflict began, she believed that things just might turn out alright, in both love and war.

* * *

><p>Shizune slowly let the curtain she was standing behind fall closed, careful not to make a sound. She felt guilty for what she had done, watching the pair from the shadows the way she did. Voyeur was not a word she would normally use to describe herself. But the two of them, Kakashi and Sakura, were just so...fascinating. She was still processing what she witnessed, trying to tease out the exact kind of relationship the jounin and her pink-haired understudy had, but any sort of definition seemed elusive.<p>

Shizune knew he taught her briefly, before she took the position of Tsunade's apprentice, and that what was left of Team 7 had always been close, but this was something different. She also knew that Kakashi always had a soft spot for Sakura, and while he never gave her preferential treatment, he was not as harsh with her as the boys. Even so, this was the Copy Ninja. Shizune had seen the missions he had completed, and knew exactly what that man had been asked to do in the name of Konoha. Comparing what she knew of him in the field with the gentle warmth he projected with Sakura was difficult to reconcile, and drove her curiosity.

While their interaction was certainly one of closeness and familiarity, it hardly hinted at anything scandalous. Sakura was still young and naive, and Kakashi, even considering his quirks, was a man of too much intergrity to exploit his former student. There was something going on, Shizune was sure of it, but any sort of affair or tryst was not the answer. Their dealings with each other were too playful, too caring, too innocent.

Yet, you would be hard-pressed to find any sort of teacher-student pair that acted like they do, Shizune thought. They lacked the amount of distance that was normally kept, and while Sakura treated Kakashi with respect, she was far from deferrential to him. It would seem that they had slid to seeing each other more as peers than anything else, but that explanation also failed to satisfy. Maybe they were more or less close friends, she could tell herself, but one glance back into the room would destroy that hypothesis. Friends did not cuddle up and hold hands; they did not use physical closeness as a respite from the angry world of war.

Maybe, Shizune thought, the pair is just as lost as she is. People tended to learn a lot about themselves during wartime, and one of the prime points of realization was understanding who really matters. Perhaps Kakashi and Sakura are more important to each other than they know, and crisis is slowly bringing that fact to light.

Quickly, she stole one last glance at the sleeping pair, noticing with a smile how Kakashi's hand that Sakura had been clutching moved, his left arm now wrapping her up and holding her tight. Shizune knew what she was seeing was likely inappropriate, the idea of any sort of romance, no matter how small, between a sensei and his student was taboo, but she couldn't bring herself to think it was wrong. Not if it was them. It looked too simple, too natural.

Shizune sighed, and returned to her impromptu desk. She began stamping supply orders, organizing files, and reading updates on the number of wounded coming her way from each division. It was going to be a busy morning, she thought, but she'd let the star-crossed lovers sleep for a few more hours.


End file.
